Truth Be Told
by Rin Seren
Summary: The truth either hurts, or kills. It’s time for espionage and intrigue to captivate our beloved characters. Oh, and as far as the truth goes: Trust No One. AU, Squinoa
1. Prologue: Mechanism of Breathing

**_Truth Be Told_**

**Prologue: Mechanism of Breathing**

Her eyes were burning; the filthy water flowed around her, invaded and tore away at her vision. Blinking, she struggled to block it out, to let the sweep of her lashes brush aside the dirt and debris, but nothing seemed to help. She had to stay mentally aware of her surroundings and that meant keeping her eyes open no matter what painful torture they were subjected to. At least, that was what the years of her training had amounted too.

She watched her last gulp of air make a quick break for the water's surface, leaving her lungs empty and deflated. She could feel the effects from the lack of oxygenated blood to the small alveoli of her lungs: they were threatening to burst from their membranous cavity if they stayed deoxygenated for a second longer. Her lungs weren't the only internal organs feeling the pressure. Her brain, cut off from its fresh supply of oxygen, barely registered the voices of the men holding her down. They had kept her suffocating under the water for longer than any normal human could possibly hope to handle. This was it; her finale.

No, the curtain would not be drawn to a close so soon for our heroine. Those muscled hands that held her down finally gripped tightly into her shirt and tore her away from the H20 torture device. If she would know the pain and suffering that would soon be brought to her she might have struggled to keep herself asphyxiated to finally end her nightmare, but she would never allow such an easy defeat. With violent gulps of breath, her bronchi were finally relieved to have the air they desperately needed. Oh, the sweet process of inspiration! The victory was short lived, however, as she was thrust to the wet floor below.

"I not repeat myself, woman! Who are you?".

The man spoke in his foreign tongue, obviously not familiar to the English language or grammar spoken by the general population, but he knew clearly well how to threaten and demean her, especially with his use of the word _woman_.

If he was going to insult her, she would do the same, but only in his native language. She took another deep breath knowing full well what would happen the moment she was defiant to her captors.

"Bu yao sheng qi!" (Quit being mean!) She spat at his feet as the last syllable broke from her trachea.

"Hit her, now!" He commanded, not even taking the time to do it himself.

One of the guards took a confident step towards her and secured his rifle over his shoulder before swiftly kicking straight into her diaphragm.

'_Why do they have to make military boots enforced with steal toes?' _

She inwardly cursed herself as the force caused an involuntary spasm from her diaphragm, pushing her rib cage up and out. The swinging action of the boot into her stomach caused her to take a deep intake of breath, a reaction one learned more out of habit than reflex. Now her lungs had too much oxygen, and her trachea burned as she choked from her own breath.

'_First too little and now too much oxygen,' _she thought.

He saw the anger in her eyes at that moment; the glassy, red veined eyes. She was a fighter, but it was futile now. Any minute and his ranking officer would be there to put her at her end.

"Xiang da jia mah?" (Want to fight?)

She had heard him clearly, but she made no attempt at moving. She just kept her turned face flush with the wet ground. The short, quickened breaths she made produced small ripples in the puddles that surrounded her. The act of pushing all that air from her lungs was causing a low, guttural growling noise obviously directed towards him. He paid no attention to her throaty threats, but effortlessly tangled his fingers into her flaming red hair.

The man swiftly jerked her up pulling roughly at her burning scalp, and she was thrust into the waiting chair in the middle of the room. Before she even had the chance to resist, the other waiting guards handcuffed her wrists to each side. Now she was truly at their mercy.

It was the first time they had gotten a good look at her condition. Her wet hair was plastered to her face and pushed back awkwardly on the top of her head, causing it to mat and tangle into large clumps. Darkened eyes glared back at her captors as her thick make-up dripped down her cheeks. She looked a mess but considering what had happened in the past few hoursno, make that daysshe looked quite well pulled together.

_Clank!_

Her swollen eyes turned to the only exit; an old, thick, barricaded wooden door with busted framing. It was obviously deteriorating with everything else in the decrepit room. Her thoughts were not about escaping, through, but about the noise on the other side. The others too turned and awaited the newest arrival, but the captive female's bottom lip quivered while her captors' mouths curved into sinister looking smiles of anticipation.

The noise got louder quickly, and the door finally creaked open…

_To Be Continued…_

**_Next Chapter: Sometimes the Truth Kills_**

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**Authors Note: **This is my first story ever. I'm hoping that my efforts and thoughts are well worth all your time. Any beta's out there? Or, anyone willing to take a look at my work before it gets thrown up on the cutting room floor? Please! Oh, please, contact me via. e-mail.

I sat for a week thinking up a story line before taking the time to write this up. I was apprehensive about writing a FFVIII fanfic because I wasn't sure if the fan base was still around, but I can tell that you guys are definitely not in short supply. That and I know I suck at writing!

All reviews are welcome. I'm sorry to say that I am human. I am imperfect. And I make mistakes. Many mistakes! Frequent, simple, elementary grammar mistakes.

I am an East Asian Language student but, there are many phrases and context that I might accidentally get messed up. I'm not fluent, yet. Sorry!

**Thanks: **I want to take the time to thank Ninie for making me feel like my work was interesting and reading it before it was sent off. Special thanks to my beta-wife Qui-ti, she is the best thing that an authoress could ask for.


	2. The Truth Kills

**_Authors Note: _**I realized I should have posted this chapter with the prologue since it might have confused a few readers, and you guys would probably want something else with the short prologue.

The _inspiration_ for this story did come from Alias and for the first chapter it will be following most of the Alias story until I change the direction. So, if you see familiar things don't worry. It will NOT follow Alias. I forgot to mention all this in the beginning. Sorry!

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**_Truth Be Told_**

**Chapter 1: Sometimes the Truth Kills**

The noise got louder quickly and then the door finally creaked open…

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**Three Months Earlier:**

The door finally creaked open to reveal the face of an old, weary gentleman, his characteristics more scholarly looking with time. His buttoned up yellow vest pockets were jammed with red ink pens and a pair of his reading glasses, all tucked securely for easy use; Hyne forbid a learned man of his stature lose his glasses!

He wasn't aging well; substantial amount of his silver hair had been lost, and the skin under his eyes had not fared any better over time, for they were wrinkled and swollen, undoubtedly due to the many nights he spent scanning the millions of texts that occupied the city's local library. He paused before the doorway and sighed upon seeing the young lady who sat scribbling frantically into the papers that were spread out haphazardly about her desk; it was her usual approach of frantic, unorganized hysteria. How she managed the frenzy remained a mystery.

The woman's ultimate fear was becoming a reality, everyone knowing that she had failed once again at her quest to eternally memorialize her mother's being by becoming a piano player. The piano, other than her precious ring, personified everything her mother had lived for. To Rinoa it offered a silent chance at unspoken appreciation that went beyond the land of the living; at least this is how she internalized her sorrow towards not knowing her mother. It was her way of never breaking their bond even in death. It was her promise, and it was _useless_!

Professor Aki was going to scold her again. She just knew it.

"Rinoa, times up." Not a hint of hesitation was in his voice. Maybe he would pity her this time?

"Okay, let…me…just…finish…my…little…song," she mumbled while scribbling the musical notes frivolously between each word spoken, not even paying attention to the harmonic consistency between them.

Rinoa recklessly slipped the finished papers into the professor's waiting hands. She hadn't even taken the time to neatly organize them into a pile; some of the edges were even crinkled or stained from spilt soda.

He took the papers willingly, not even bothering to give her his usual speeches of 'Do you think your mother would have acted like this,' or the infamous but mostly mortifying, 'Keep this up and your mother will be rolling in her grave.' Instead, he chose not to comment this time, figuring she had already suffered enough of his abuse today, and just let her go.

She quickly exited out the same door he had entered through, breathing a sigh of relief when she received no customary reprimanding. Even with all the odds stacked against her she always reminded herself of everything that was positive with what she was trying to accomplish.

_I bet mom was like me,_ Rinoa thought now, clicking the pen she had been using open and shut repeatedly. Julia Heartilly, her mother, had been a highly regarded pianist in Deling City. She had had a passion for playing and teaching, but that was before she died in a car accident when Rinoa was still young. Rinoa thrust all lingering thoughts from her brain and clicked the door closed behind her, heading off into the bright afternoon towards a waiting male figure.

The figure decided to approach her first and gave a light hearted peck on her cheek, which sent beams of happiness and instantly brightened her mood. This was the main reason she stuck around him; he gave substance to her being, a purpose for her to fulfill no matter how short her pianist career was. This was her safe-guard to their relationship and the rest of the world: immaturity chock-full of hope. The two supposed 'lovers' treated one another as scapegoats to life, not as boyfriend and girlfriend.

"How did you do at today's lesson?" he inquired innocently; treading in the shallow end of this subject was always the best thing to do.

"So… I'm pretty sure he's going to drop me from his musical theory and interpretation class."

"He's not going to drop you." He knew Rinoa was smarter than anyone else in that class, even if she was a bit scattered brained at times. She just couldn't keep her focus, always seeming to have something else on her mind. Whatever it was that plagued Rinoa's mind, she was great at hiding it from him and the rest of the weary world that circled around her.

"I think he's going to drop me. I got into his class without the prerequisites. He's going to drop me from his class, Seifer."

He smirked at the use of his name. "You've never gotten a teacher to drop you. He's never dropped you before in any of your other courses, so why start now?"

She dismissed the idea of her professor not being able to drop her; he had it in him to take action, and he had already been threatening her for the past two weeks.

"I've been dropped before."

"When?" He was thoroughly amused at her now.

"High school in home economics class. It was more like I was kicked out." She sighed, more from the fact that this was the third time telling him this story than the actual memories from high school and being kicked out of class.

In high school, she never seemed to fit in anywhere. Sure, maybe a few cliques might have extended their friendship to her, but cliques weren't her style. And how could she participate in a social standard that she despised? Nevertheless, she hadn't been the normal teenager of the time. Take, for instance, her preference of reading novels at the library to beauty magazines in the woman's refresh. No, she wasn't an outcast by any means; she got along with everybody and they in turn adored her quirky output on life. She was in love with life but life just never slowed down for her to experience most it. _No carpe diem._

"What did you do?" He asked, temporarily bringing her out of her revere. "Didn't you embroider something on a T-shirt?"

"Sweatshirt. It was the assignment." She corrected him.

"What, it was obscene? Something with the teacher?"

"He was a sexist pig. I deserved a scholarship for that." Rinoa inwardly smiled at that memory. She was the type of girl to stand up for her convictions no matter how insane it made her at times. She believed in fighting for the underdog, this being the basis for her career choice. She just wanted to help people. Sure, music is a source of healing, but there were other, more covert career choices she was obliged to perform, all of which served that greater good.

She noticed Seifer fidgeting with the contents of his pockets; he had always refused to use a suitcase, proclaiming that it 'cramped his style.'

"Hold on a second."

She stopped as per his request, and turned to face him, but couldn't help raising her right eyebrow at his unusual behavior.

"I've got a double shift again." His eyes went straight to his feet. "I wanted to wait. Maybe do it on the weekend, but I couldn't."

"What's going on?" The crease between her eyebrows deepened in confusion.

It was at this exact moment that the bells of the remote campanile started to ring; a distant sound of birds taking flight could be heard as they flapped their wings towards the sky. It was like one of those old black and white films on the streets of some romantic city where two foreign lovers embraced each other. Seifer and Rinoa hardly ever acted that way in public or in private for that matter. It was in the middle of all this romantic confusion that she saw Seifer lower himself to one knee, extending his arm out towards her.

"Rinoa, I can't tell you how much I hope you'll marry me. Despite the person I've been."

Rinoa Heartilly was utterly stupefied. Her feet felt like they had melted right into the hard concrete below. Her brain halted at once, rationalizing the appropriate answer, but she found none. She couldn't even stop those conflicting emotions within her before they subdued her consciences and took control, forcing her regretful reply:

"Yes." She said kneeling down to his level.

_Why did I say yes?_

As if reading her thoughts Seifer forcibly joined his lips to hers; her own emotions never had a fighting chance to change her answer. She was shocked at the actions of her boyfriend--boyfriend was no longer the correct term, he was now her fiancé. For having just been proposed to, she wasn't feeling very happy; wasn't this supposed to be the happiest moment in a girl's life? The one that just oozes romance at the seams? But she wasn't feeling it.

He deepened their kiss and all her unstructured thoughts flew away along with that flock of birds, a bad omen no one seemed to sense; a _murder_ of crows.

"Yes!" She declared more enthusiastically than the first reply.

"I love you." That was the first time either one heard that phrase.

They hugged tightly, her hand pressed across his back, her engagement ring glowing against the sharp contrast of his dark shirt. She was too lost in all her anxiety to even notice the ring he slipped on her finger. She could feel the weight of her thoughts tugging on her shoulders; reality was settling in.

Things just got complicated.

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"I know, I cry at every damn thing! Hold on." The woman wiped her eyes free of the tears, pushing up on her lashes lightly so as not to cause her mascara to run. "Oh, let me see it again. Oh, honey, it's beautiful!"

The two best friends sat in Rinoa's kitchen table admiring the new engagement ring. They were acting like giddy school girls and it seemed that Rinoa's mood had brightened, all thanks to her friend, Selphie Tilmitt.

"I know. I'm getting married!" She almost squealed, but pressed her fingers to her lips before the excitement could bubble out of her.

"You're getting married!" Selphie did the squealing for Rinoa as they hugged. She didn't understand why Rinoa was not as excited about it as her. _It seems like I'm the one getting married, not her._

"So, did you tell Zone yet?" Selphie inquired, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth.

"Meeting him at the track after the bank. Do you want to come?"

"No thanks. I've got three hundred orthopedic surgeons to entertain and no desire to exercise." She took a deep breath before she asked the next question, knowing full well that Rinoa wouldn't be happy to hear it, but it needed to be said by somebody; someone had to be the enemy.

"What about your dad?"

"I haven't told that man, yet." Rinoa sighed slightly. "I don't want him to ruin this... not this. You know?"

Rinoa and her father, or 'that man' as she referred to him, had never on the best of terms. They never talked anymore; the last time they were remotely civil towards one another was before her mother passed away. Thoughts of 'that man' raced through her brain and her bottom jaw clenched involuntarily at the images.

"Your mother would be so happy for you, Rinoa"

Rinoa released her tightened jaw, never realizing that she had been holding it. Her expression softened knowing her mother would be proud of her right now, even if she never made it as a pianist. She smiled at the calming thoughts.

"She would." If she was going to have a happy wedding she should have at least one happy parent there but there was only one left to choose from. "_Maybe_ I should call my dad..." Rinoa thought briefly about changing her mind and not calling him. "I mean, he is my dad." _He is my Dad, but he is also a bastard._

"You are schizophrenic! Just remind yourself, unless you're talking about military protocol and subjective propaganda, that man's got nothing to say. Let him find out when he gets the invitation."

"He already knows. Seifer called him to ask permission."

"Seifer called _your_ dad? _The_ General Caraway?"

"Mmm hmm." Rinoa nodded her head to indicate that she was just as surprised as Selphie, and she already knew about it. Was she surprised at Seifer doing anything other than propose, or for the fact that two men actually had a conversation together? _It's not like Seifer. It's not like either of those men!_

"And how did that go?" Selphie asked, already pre-determining that the outcome wasn't pleasant.

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The small jingle from a phone rang through the office of the powerful General Fury Caraway; he let it ring for almost a minute before deciding to answer it, having no idea of the tempest brewing in the other mans belly as he waited as patiently as possible. Was it anticipation or fear that drove the man's gut crazy?

"Yeah." A monotonous voice boomed on the other side of the phone. There was no doubt about whom the firm voice belonged to. It had to be the general, but he made sure anyway.

"Mr. Caraway?"

"Yes, I answer my own phone."

"It's Seifer Almasy." He waited for the old general's recognition but was awarded no response so he chimed in and added, "Rinoa's boyfriend."

"Is Rinoa alright?" For there being a slight possibility that his only daughter might be in trouble the general held fast to his emotions, keeping them at bay.

"Oh, yes, she's fine." Seifer gulped. "Nothing to worry about. I'm calling because I'm planning on asking Rinoa to marry me and... I was hoping to get your approval."

The general took an irritated deep breath through his nose, releasing it out his mouth, tickling the small mustache hairs above his lips before asking, "Seifer, let me ask you a question."

"Sure."

"How well do you _know _my daughter?"

"Um, we've been dating awhile now." Was this supposed to be a trick question?He probably knew Rinoa better than her own father did. It was truly pathetic to him, but he would continue to play into Caraway's game.

"Because if you feel the need to ask me about this scenario, I have a sense you don't know Rinoa at all." He almost faltered by saying _my_ Rinoa, almost letting his façade fall.

"Sir, I love your daughter and I want to marry her. That's why I'm calling."

"First of all, Seifer, the truth is this is just a courtesy call. Like when you say to your neighbor, 'We're having a loud party on Saturday night if that's all right with you.' What you really mean is, 'We're having a loud party on Saturday night.'"

"Mr. Caraway…"

"Rinoa doesn't give a damn what my opinion is. What interests me is that you do."

"It's just a custom to call the father. That's all this is…" 

"Well, then, I'll tell you what. I may become your father-in-law, that's just fine. But I will not be used as part of a charming little anecdote you tell your friends at cocktail parties so they can see what a quaint, old-fashioned guy Seifer really is. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir..."

"Good. Then welcome to the family." General Caraway hung up the phone satisfied with his victory, he didn't even mind that fact that it might upset his daughter if she found out.

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Rinoa listened to the small, whistling branches that lined the side walk as she strode brisk-fully towards her office. It was amazing to her how nature seemed to be able to grow and survive in its cement prison of the city.

The wind around her was fluting through crannies and around barriers of the building, picking up scraps of trash and sending them into flight. She allowed herself a moment's pleasure as she walked; a short, indulgent minute or two to simply enjoy the beaming daylight. The suns rays were gently warming the sides of her cheeks into a blush. She raised her face to the sun like an eager child silently begging for a kiss; it seemed the longer she was engaged the more she was beginning to love it. Maybe all that was needed to quell her fear was time. She lowered her head back in order to concentrate better on where she was heading, easily turning the corner and brushing past the Credit Deling street sign.

Rinoa walked through the front doors of the Credit Deling building; it was probably one of the largest buildings in all of Deling, especially if you counted all the top-secret sectors contained below.

One of the main security guards opened the doors to the executive elevator to let her pass by, pressing the close button the minute a non-agent walked by. He smiled down upon her as the doors slowly closed. This was how it always was here, routine, routine, routine! Any act unfamiliar might be subjected to a thorough investigation, for this was no ordinary bank. It was Credit Deling a black ops division of SeeD, labeled SD for short. This was the work she was doing for the greater good: secretly bringing down dangerous terrorists, spying on the enemies' scientific studies, a list of never ending jobs that goes on forever. She was special agent Rinoa Heartilly, multiple aliases, codename: Angel.

She didn't know why she was given the codename angel; maybe it was because of the blue duster with the imprinted angel wings on the back she wore the first day of work.

_Angel? I'm no angel._

"Morning, Rinoa!" The elevator guard gave her the usual wink and wave. "You look stunning today, like a glowing angel I might add."

She waved back awkwardly before the elevator came to a close. The metallic doors reflected her awkward posture with her hand stopping in mid wave. That was when she noticed the small shimmering glint that the diamond on her finger cast.

_My ring!_

Rinoa wanted to tell the world about her latest engagement but this job required she give herself fully to her agency, and being married complicated that aspect; maybe that's the reasoning behind why her flamboyant partner never seemed to settle down with one lady at a time.

_Maybe I should call it off with Seifer?_

That wasn't the only reason she chose when she folded her hands behind her back and slipped the ring off her nimble finger. She had hardly been able to take Selphie's excitement earlier and didn't need it from her co-workers. But hadn't she just been happy to be getting married? _Selphie__ is right, I _am _schizophrenic._

The elevator halted, opened, and she stepped out into what was clearly the winner of the whitest room in history. As she stood there surrounded by the white-washed walls a series of red lights flashed around her breaking the colorless room into a circus of red haze before fading away with the opening of the an unseen door.

Rinoa stepped through into the main offices of their SD branch. It was clearly an office space by the various men and woman in black suits carrying out their daily grunt work: talking on phones, shuffling papers, doing intensive research on computers, and outlining various maps with push pins and code-markers assigned to some unknown location. The men in black seemed content with their work, happy at their successful steps to take down the enemy.

They all seemed happy, that is, except for the man at the desk farthest away; he was on the phone and had his boots planted directly on top of his desk not even noticing he was scrunching up important field reports in the process. Rinoa snuck up beside him and snatched the files from beneath his feet, saving them from total destruction at the hands (more like feet) of her partner, Irvine Kinneas.

"You should tidy up your desk more," she said, innocently leaning over and dumping the now neatly straightened folders into his filing cabinet.

"Auf weidersein." He ended his conversation on the phone. "God, I hate this."

"Why? It's only…"

"No, not my case work. These new headsets keep pinching my ear." With an aggravated sigh, Irvine abruptly tore the headset down onto the desk.

"Oh, give it to me." She picked the discarded headpiece up off his desk and began fiddling with the device. After only a few seconds she declared her victory over the stubborn device, placing the newly revised headset back on his desk. "Any word from Decklin?"

"Not since Timber. I keep telling myself he's just fine. You know, he's done this before, disappeared for days like this." He stopped instantly, taking note of a slight change with her. He had noticed it earlier but it was becoming even more apparent, especially after she flaunted her craftsmanship with the headset. He took it as his partnership duty to identify what made her so cheerful today. In reality he was just being noisy. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing." She blinked back her surprise at the question. "Why?"

"You're, like..." He smiled confidently, excited at making her squirm. They were just partners, but he couldn't help but get under her skin. And he just couldn't resist flirting with who he considered to be the 'hot mamma' of the agency. "You've got a glow."

"I don't have a glow." She blushed inwardly, drawing her focus away and over to his calendar, flipping it to the correct month.

"Yeah, look at that!"

"Come on. Kramer's waiting." She pushed the pin holding the calendar up harder into the wall. "There's no glow!" And with that final comment, she turned on her black heels towards the briefing room.

Watching her leave, Irvine turned around towards the agent in the desk behind him. "Is she glowing?"

"Big time."

"You hear that?" He called towards her turned back but Rinoa just threw her hands up in defeat. He had proved his point.

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The briefing room was always eerily cold to Rinoa, but today the temperature had seemed to be at its lowest. Couldn't their government afford a well-needed heating system? She shivered once again, realizing that she shouldn't have outwardly shown her discomfort after Irvine immediately draped his arm across her shoulders. Unfortunately, for Irvine, his arm was slapped away by Rinoa, indicating that he should pay more attention to the meeting currently at hand.

"Vascar Mueller was killed last month. He was riding a moped through Dollet and was hit by an ambulance, of all things. We've kept our eye on this guy for quite some time. He fancied himself as a modern day alchemist. His IQ was recorded as one of the highest on the planet," interjected their boss, director of this SD complex, Cid Kramer.

Irvine couldn't help but laugh at Vascar Mueller's fate. "Then again, he was riding a moped."

Cid Kramer ignored his top two agent's behaviors and tried his best to continue. Rinoa Heartilly had been at the agency for only seven years, while Irvine was two years her senior, but despite their ranks they were both equally matched in the field, each playing off the other's weaknesses.

"Between the multi-nationals and SeeD, there was a frenzy to recover Mueller's notebook and experiments, but none were found; at least not by the west."

Director Kramer motioned to the far side of the table to where a wide-screen was currently displaying a pixilated structure. "This building is also an Esthar cover station. We received word two weeks ago that one of Mueller's plans surfaced here."

"Who is the mole?" Rinoa chimed in coolly. She wasn't thrilled to know that even after seven years of service to her country she wasn't privy to every detail. _They still keep things from me. Don't they trust me?_

"Antonio Quintero. This is his last transmission. Uplink was on the fifteenth, brush past was scheduled for Tuesday. Quintero did not show."

With a simple click from Cid Kramer's desk, a new slide was presented: a mangled scrap of paper with quill smudges. If this had been any other person's diary the notes would have been easily discarded as rubbish, but the ancient diagram and hieroglyphics offered other uncertainties that Rinoa took interest too. At the SD, she had excelled primarily in linguistics and the translating of ancient texts, but this was a script she had never seen before; that should be reason enough for anybody to judge the notes as mysterious.

"What is that, hieratic?"

"That's what I thought. It's demonic. Taking notes in ancient languages is just one of Mueller's quirks. Apparently he had a few." Kramer knew Rinoa would be instantly fascinated by the demonic language, whereas Irvine looked bored, occupying his time with the contents of his folder until he found something of interest.

"So, Quintero's been burned?"

Cid Kramer shook his head in answer to Irvine's question, "We don't know. There's a party at the building next Tuesday. You're arriving in Esthar on Monday and employed by Timber Plastics.

Both Irvine and Rinoa threaded through the cover information contained within the files, flipping over passports, visas, and miscellaneous employment records.

"Working for a manufacturing plant…" Irvine smirked, wondering what sort of loser he'd be disguised as. _A swankin' party and I won't be able to get no chicks._

"Based on the notes, you'll case the building's east wing measurements, locks, IO, the whole nine. Locate the lab where the plans are being held, and then come home. That's all. No retrieval. We can't risk it." The briefing room's screen was shut down indicating that the meeting was coming to a close.

"Okay, Watts, you go."

Watts' short form stood hesitantly; sitting silently throughout the entire meeting wasn't the only reason his legs wobbled nervously. He gave a timid, lopsided smile towards the people on the opposite side of the table; their restless expressions drove quick jolts of pain into his stomach and he would have escaped towards the men's restroom had it not been for the stern glare Cid shot him.

"Yeah, thank you. Uh…How's everyone?" He fumbled through his introduction, receiving yet another glare from Cid. The young techno-whiz couldn't help but sweat bullets. "Good. All right."

Watts' sweaty palms fumbled within the confines of his suit jacket until locating his latest spy intelligence device... a lighter?

"The first thing I have here is a, well, looks like a lighter, right? It's something that you would light your cigarettes with, or cigar. But actually it's an RF scrambler. It disrupts any video for a four hundred and twenty yard radius. So, if I were to hit this switch right here the whole block would be in a complete panic. So, what the hell, right?"

He was motioning everything with hands for emphasis: pretending to light the cigar, twiddling his fingers in front of his face in an attempt to show what scrambling would do. With a deep breath he switched the lighter open, miming lighting up an imaginary cigar that would have been held between his teeth. The intelligence device immediately went to work upon being 'fired' up: computer screens changed from their flashing SeeD insignia to scrambled white and black dots, and all listening devices planted within the room were rewarded with a high pitched squeal. He was certainly proud of his handy-work even if no one else seemed to care.

"See? Everyone's totally freaking out. What's going on with my computer, it's not... My DVD isn't working!"

Rinoa did care for Watts, and was pleased to see that his display of intellect gained him a few inches of the confidence he needed. All that he needed was gratitude and hopefully everyone else would outwardly show the man respect. There was one face, however, that wasn't smiling, and Rinoa didn't even bother turning to her partner to know it was him. She slid her left hand underneath the table towards Irvine's knee; this action would have otherwise pleased him had he not felt the sudden pressure expertly applied to key points of the knee. The sudden tingling sensation in his knee didn't go away until he sat straight up in his chair, smiling all the while at the nervous tech expert. Rinoa's smile towards Watts seemed to have grown tenfold in those last few moments.

Watts saw those smiles, the sweat seeming to cool down along the bridge of his nose. The distorted videos diminished, turning back to normal as he closed the lighter in his hands. This newly found confidence spurred him to continue.

"And we're back. Okay. Now, I got a twenty volt cell in here, so… you only get four minutes of a charge. So, you want to get in and do your thing and get out. Four minutes and two seconds and you're screwed." Watts tried his best to imitate Rinoa, doing what could only be described as cheesy kung-fu moves.

"Okay. The other thing I got is... you're going to like this... something that I'm really excited about." His eyes twinkled excitedly at Rinoa as he took out the next object that was obviously intended for her use.

"Looks like lipstick. You know… something that you would be for your lips, in a woman's refresh... but this is the amazing thing. It actually takes pictures, and it measures space in three axes from one vantage point. It assembles images based on GPS and creates a centimeter accurate blue print of a building. It's got a camera and a short pulse laser, plus a grid analyzer and I got it to forty-two snaps right now. But I want to get it to forty-seven because... that's a prime number."

Watts seriously should have taken a few more deep breaths in between those rushed sentences. Sitting back down in his chair, he noticed the nervousness had crept back into him and he realized just how nerdy and flustered he had become.

"Well. You might think this is a simple reconnaissance operation, but until we find out what these experiments are, we need to assume that the enemy is waiting. I want you to do us one favor. Come back."

Cid hadn't seemed so confident in those last few comments. A wisp of suspicion clawed away at the young female agent's stomach; why would they not come back?

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	3. Dance For Your Death, Cinderella

_**Truth Be Told**_

**Chapter 2: Dance For Your Death, Cinderella**

A wisp of suspicion clawed away at the young female agent's stomach; why would they not come back?

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Rinoa sat on the edge of her bed, separated by half her wardrobe and the empty suitcase perched on the other side. She was too frustrated with her lack of suitable clothing choices to recognize Seifer's voice across the hall.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Go where?" She called absentmindedly, fussing with the tangle of garments.

"For the dinner with your father!" Seifer replied as he emerged from the hallway, leaning against her doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh--crap!" She lifted the article of clothing to cover her mouth. "I completely forgot, and the bank scheduled me for a business trip to Timber, and--" She stopped her ramblings when she saw the irritated look on his face.

"It's my job."

"I know." He looked down at his feet a moment before walking away, his silence telling her exactly how displeased he was.

Rinoa had anticipated his reaction, but the knowledge did nothing to soften her own distress; things were going to get complicated. Frustrated, she threw a few chosen garments into her suitcase before collapsing on the cluttered bed in a miserable heap.

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_Masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you!_

Music sounded, trumpets signaling that the dance had officially commenced. On opposite sides of the dance floor, Rinoa and Irvine threaded their way through the throng of party-goers, eyes examining the multitude of visitors for their eventual target.

Irvine and Rinoa's goal was simple: find the area where the experiments were being held, map out the region, and return back home safely. Irvine would provide the look-out while Rinoa infiltrated the area; the chance of anyone observing their actions in the crowded ballroom was slim-to-none.

However, the agents did not anticipate the level of fascination they would have with the ostentatious scene they found themselves in; they were virtually captivated at the grand spectacle playing out before them, minds momentarily forgetting about the task at hand; their astonished faces blended in with the rest of the astonished guests. At least their distraction was not a detriment to their mission; their overwhelmed expressions helping to look less _suspicious_ during such an _auspicious_ occasion.

Irvine Kinneas was clad in his best socializing gear, all white silks and leathers, plush and beautiful perfectly accentuating his tall frame. He skittered towards the unattended side entrance, and inhaled deeply before looking with slight desperation over the assembled citizens for his partner Rinoa.

During the mission debrief, Cid Kramer had been adamant about this being strictly a reconnaissance mission, but Irvine wished he could bust through those heavily guarded doors, knock some teeth in, and steal the Estharian experiments; anything to be finished with this mission and out of his uncomfortable costume--his _ridiculously_ uncomfortable costume.

They had been instructed about their covers the previous day; unfortunately for Irvine, he was to become, essentially, a social geek; his cover included the charming idiosyncrasies of biting his lip, twiddling his fingers, stuttering, and speaking with an outlandish lisp. The fact that Irvine could not flirt with the many available females was more of a torture than his absurd attire.

"A swankin' party, full of single hotties, and I won't be able to get any chicks" He spoke out loud to no one in particular, though his voice carried through the microphones both Rinoa and he stealthily wore hidden in their garments as nondescript accessories.

"Stutter more when you say that, Irvine darling." Rinoa's voice conveyed clearly through the earpiece, but he still found her to be nowhere in sight. "If you really need a 'chick', I can set you up with my roommate; you remember Selphie from the company picnic--"

"--I don't need _any_ help getting chicks, thank you," he interrupted, his eyes still scanning the crowd for her. The party would only be a couple of hours long, but the mission needed to be put into effect immediately; the sooner he could get out of his nerd gear the better.

"Where the hell are you Rinoa?"

It was quite easy to lose someone within the Grand Ballroom, easy enough to lose what could have been your prince charming, your _knight in shining armor_, your soul mate, like Cinderella at midnight, lost among the crowds as she fled.

The massive ballroom was a cylindrical room with a high iridescent glass-domed ceiling, decorated with both ivory and gold accents. Thick, long swathes of rich silk hanged from the high ceiling, flowing along the walls to the radiant floor. A decadent presentation, and compared to other similar balls held throughout the year, this one seemed to be the most extravagant of them all.

"Esthar sure has become…what's that one big word that I'm looking here for… o--os--ostentatious, don't you think so Squall?" a hyper young blond commented through a mouthful of cocktail-weenies. His companion just rolled his eyes before absently shaking the hair out of his vision.

The energetic blond bounded happily down the stairs in search for his lost comrade, as he had become separated from him in the first few seconds they had entered the ballroom. A red velvet lined cloak was thrown over his shoulders, and he did not wear a mask like some of the other guests, but a pirate's eye-patch over his right eye, showing off the intricate tattoo lines that covered an entire side of his face.

"Squall?"

Squall was there beside his tattooed friend and had been for some time, mingling in a generally social manner with the other guests. A silent, polite chuckle escaped his lips, not that he was particularly amused with his oblivious friend; this was all mandatory behavior on his part.

Unlike his tattooed counterpart, the young man named Squall was decked out in his expensive formal apparel; the finely tailored coat was a dark shade of blue, and edged in a silken black fabric. He was dressed simply yet elegantly, black slacks matching the fine shirt he wore underneath the coat. A dark shock of hair fell just barely over the eye surrounded by a pure white mask that covered half of his face, the icy blue iris standing out in sharp contrast to the dark strands. At the edge of the mask near the center of his face the beginning of a scar was in view. At first glance it was just the slightest hint of scarred flesh, but in fact it was far more than it appeared to be. That mysterious scar held a curious nature to it, a clandestine past that remained in hiding; masks were capable of hiding more than just scars this evening.

"Hn. We're here for one reason alone; we might as well just get it all over with Zell," Squall forcefully muttered through gritted teeth. Unfortunately, tonight's duty called for Squall to be more sociable; he rarely endured formal events such as this, as they were definitely his least favorite obligations to his profession. But he knew how to act, how to keep a pleasant expression on his face, and how to let half his mind wander to prevent himself from going insane with boredom.

Squall's gaze moved over the party's commotion behind Zell, a vast amount of people occupied the entrance; the only places that weren't cramped were the spaces along the walls or the middle of the ballroom. The latter was clearly not an option, as he did not feel like becoming an easy target for the blood-thirsty girls looking to dance. Cautiously, he backed away from the crowd until he felt the safety of the wall pressed against his back. He gently leaned limp against the adjacent pillar, its cold marble surface cooling his back through the coat he wore, eyes cast to the ground after lifting only once to take in the vast ballroom's entirety.

The marble floor seemed to glow with an inner light all its own, lighting up the rosy faces of the dancers, but the real illumination came from the high torches set on each of the columns holding the ceiling and dome up. They were elaborate objects, shaped like huge cornucopias with transparent ivory windows on each side. It gave the whole of the hall a bright, yet somewhat subdued feel to it.

"Angel to Lone Ranger, I'm in."

The _angel_ Rinoa stood, waiting at the top of the marble staircase; a veil of light streamed in, capturing her in a torrent of shimmering luminescence. She was the quintessential angelic form among the revelers: long, white gown billowing from an imaginary wind, draping across her petite figure like dripping water, her hair was let free to cascade in a river of slender onyx fibers.

"Hyne…Where have you been, my angel?" Irvine joked, finally spotting her under the lofty arches of the stairway, as if anyone could miss her. "You seem to have forgotten your wings."

"The Belle of the ball never arrives on time, Irvine," Rinoa remained still, uncertain if he had taken notice of her.

Her inquisitive eyes scanned the floor below; couples were moving below her, growing thicker, surrounding her, drawing her into them in swirling waves of a colorful grace. She watched the scene from her vantage point a moment longer before disengaging herself from the pressing throng of onlookers and their critical glares, determined to succeed in her mission despite the thorn of anxiety Cid had imbedded in her abdomen.

One elegant leg followed the other; her hands gripping the railing as she took her first steps down the spiraling staircase, slippered feet carrying her across each marble step. An understated elegance was carried by her figure as she made her decent; the voluminous folds of pale ivory slid across her body, whispering as they flowed from her lithe waist.

Rinoa's rhythmic footsteps sent a trance into the hearts of every man attending the revelry; she was utterly captivating to watch, ensnaring men's senses in a vice-like grip, holding their appreciative stares in a way that unnerved the poor agent. She crossed over the steps, seemingly a fearless lioness, knowing the dangers that could unfold at the smallest mistake, smallest falter in her plan, _smallest_ _falter in her step…_

_Slip_!

Months of etiquette classes failed to prepare her for the effects of overly polished marble flooring on ballet slippers. The slick floor had caused her to stumble, and before she could even land a hand upon the railing, one light blue slipper shot precariously off her dainty toes, into the air, before hitting Zell, the poor hot-dog eating gentleman square in the face.

"What in Hyne's name?" Zell choked, swallowing what last bits of meat that didn't fly out of his mouth. A baffled Squall was brought out of his distant musings by his companions abrupt swearing, and the light blue slipper that rolled to a stop at his feet.

Squall barely had time to register the flurrying of skirts out of the corner of his eye.

The voluminous folds of her gown were sent swirling around her as she dangled herself unsteadily on the tips of little toes, balancing like an ungraceful ballerina: hands flailing above her head, left leg flying outwards as she tried to regain her stability upon the staircase.

Those last few toes that held so dearly to the stairs were ready to leave their secure spot and send her falling into the _arms_ of her _destiny_. Rinoa let out a mumbled squeak--more like a plea for help, as she frantically searched for a foot hold, a railing, anything! All final attempts were ultimately useless; she was falling now; eyes squeezed shut as she braced herself for the final impact at the bottom of the stairs.

In one swift, fluid motion arms were around her, pulling her safely into an embrace. Her impact with the ground was soft, cushioned, and even--warm? Rinoa blinked, barely registering being shifted onto the cool flooring. Looking up, the chandeliers' direct light blinded her senses temporarily before the glare was blocked by the dark outline of her savior.

"Are you okay?" Her rescuer spoke to her still-confused form, his soft breath warm against her cheeks. His arms remained secure around her middle, not sure if he should help Rinoa to her feet incase she was suffering from a case of vertigo, or possibly drunk from the consumption of too much wine. This was a party after all. His abrupt, agitated sigh implied his annoyance at their continued close proximity, and her failure to respond.

"Hey, you caught a good looking one there Squall!" Zell joked as he leaned over the two, interrupting their awkward moment.

"I'm…fine." Rinoa simply replied, too disoriented by her fall to move a muscle; all she could do was gaze up at the man who had saved her from certain bone-crushing embarrassment. As she struggled to untangle herself from his arms, her soft, chocolate eyes finally met his cold, pale azure ones—and she froze instantly.

"Um…thank you very much." Rinoa stammered, forgetting that she was still in his arms; the only thing she could do was stare into the most captivating cobalt blue eyes she had ever seen. Fortunately, or possibly unfortunately depending on how you look at the situation, Irvine's urgent message gave her little time to gawk at the strangers piercing stare.

"Rinoa are you okay?" Irvine, however, didn't leave her anytime to respond, "There's going to be a change of plans. The guards are switching shifts, and I'm going to make my way down; our window of opportunity won't be open for much longer so I need you to be ready to hand off that grid analyzer."

Rinoa had little time to process the information given before she saw Irvine cutting through the thick crowd. She effortlessly flipped the device covertly disguised as an expensive tube of lipstick from her purse, and into her concealed palm; quick motions that were trained for years, like magicians taught to deceive the eyes.

"My dear, my dear, it seems you've had a nasty fall," Irvine said as he approached her, pushing up on the rim of his fake glasses to convey a look of professionalism. "Let me have a look at that ankle."

Irvine crouched down to examine Rinoa's ankle, enjoying the potentially teasing moment that he obtained by tickling her calves. He knew she would never break character and slap him, so he allowed himself to enjoy it while he could. Of course, he knew later that Rinoa would induce severe pain into his groin area.

"Does it look okay…Doctor?" Zell inquired, finally recovered from the hit on his head and concerned for the girl in Squall's arms.

Squall's agitated sigh didn't break Irvine's concentration on his detailed "examination" of Rinoa's ankle. In actuality, Irvine's professional skills were being used to their complete potential. Using his left hand to smooth the area around her ankle, his right hand went to work sifting through the folds of her skirt where Rinoa had hidden the small device—their audience completely unaware of his actions.

"Hmm…"

After searching for a few seconds, Irvine's fingers finally brushed across the device's cool metal surface. He snatched it from the folds of her skirts, spinning the tube of lipstick in his fingers; he then slid it easily into the sleeve of his evening coat before giving her a gentle tap on her covered thigh, showing that he was finished with his examination.

"Well…," Irvine stood from his position and turned to speak to Squall, who still reluctantly held Rinoa in his arms, "Stay here and watch her, but make sure you keep her on her feet to walk it off. I'll be back with some ice and a bandage for that ankle."

Before Squall could open his mouth to protest, Irvine had turned on his heel, making a fast escape out of the ballroom. Squall was left standing there glaring daggers at Zell, who currently held a cocky smirk plastered on his face. He was trying not to notice the delicate woman he held in his stiff arms, but there was this little annoying fact that she seemed to not want to let go. He chewed on the inside of his lip in agitation before unceremoniously thrusting her up from the ground and placing her on her own two feet.

After a moment's awkward silence, Rinoa decided it would be best to be polite. "Thank you, I'm sorry about all of this," she sincerely said to the two men.

Finally realizing that her fist still held securely onto the sleeve of her savior's overcoat, she quickly blushed, yanking the hand away and hiding it innocently behind her back like a child who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Zell, would you…" Squall had every intention of thrusting the girl onto his companion, but as he turned around to face him, he only found and empty space where Zell had once stood. Glancing around Squall found his missing comrade waving to him, and bounding towards the exit, yelling quite loudly, "I'll take care of that little thing we need to get done!"

Squall grumbled to himself, he would've preferred to take care of their business himself, not trusting Zell completely to finish anything correctly. He would have just stood there complaining had he not seen the young girl wobble her way over to the pillar that he once leaned against. He watched silently as she steadied herself on her good foot, using the pillar for balance, to check on the injured ankle. It was beginning to turn a dark shade of purple, and was slightly swollen along the bottom of the bone, but the young girl didn't flinch or wince—hell, she hadn't complained once about being in any pain. He found himself admiring her fortitude, but quickly dismissed the emotion and turned away from her again.

Sensing she was being watched, Rinoa glanced up smiled warmly at Squall's profile. "It's all right, just a little swollen."

"…" Squall replied with a blank stare and a nod of his head, not even bothering to turn back around and face her, and not sure why he was being completely speechless towards her.

There was something about the girl and her lack of senseless whining (that one so often endured in high-society occasions) that enticed Squall's interest, but he was quick to not dwell on it, convincing himself that their confrontation was merely an annoyance to him. He would have enjoyed the rest of the night alone in the shadows while Zell worked on their important business agenda, but it seemed he was too cocky to assume that the young girl he rescued would just let him be because out of the corner of his eye he saw her making her way straight for him.

"I'm really glad the most handsome guy in here caught my fall." She half joked, expecting a small laugh from her savior, but instead she was met with his cold, hard stare.

"Hn. Whatever."

Now this really wasn't the kind of flirting she was hoping to produce, and after his cold remark she was determined not to let him go that easily; even if it seemed annoying, and even if it took everything she got, she was going to make sure he enjoyed it.

"Have you ever danced at one of these things? I'm not one for dancing, myself—unless it's with a cute stranger like you." She was trying to control the laughter building up in her stomach, watching the man squirm as he brushed past her, towards the nearest exit. "Of course, I don't think I'll be doing any dancing tonight; what a shame."

"I don't dance." He said sternly, glancing behind him once to see her amused expression as he walked away.

Seeing that she was about to miss any opportunity to dance, she clumsily moved towards him, catching up to his quickened pace, and successfully snagging his upper arm into a surprisingly strong grip. "Don't think just because you saved me you can get away that easily, mister."

Squall stopped, too dumbfounded at her intimidating speech to reply; that and he was half amazed at her ability to move quickly while injured, and half startled that he wasn't tearing her hand off of him.

"Well since we're here, we might as well dance." Rinoa replied, noticing his silence as the perfect time to take advantage of the fact that they were currently standing in the middle of the dance floor. She awkwardly side-stepped in front of him only to bump into his side, his balance momentarily lost. He staggered backwards, hands shooting up defensively to either push her away or catch her--he wasn't quite sure which. She didn't waste her next opportunity, placing his right hand onto her hip before linking his other hand in her own.

"And now we dance."

He looked at her handiwork, noticing his fingers were locked securely in her unrelenting hold. He could have easily broken the grip, but that would cause a scene; and speaking of causing scenes, the other dancers were glaring intently at the two of them. Looking down at his prone feet he decided there was no getting out of this situation, and he was a master at getting out of unnecessary situations.

Ignoring his pride he gracelessly began to shuffle his feet from side to side, successfully twisting their legs together as feet fumbled over feet. As his feet pushed him forward he violently pummeled into the girl, inciting a small wince of pain from her soft lips. Somehow that worked to his advantage because her fingers slipped away from his, and he was finally free. Whether it was from embarrassment or plain annoyance, he hastily turned on his heels to storm off without so much of an apology. His victory was short lived, however, as she quickly yanked his retreating form back to her and readjusted their stance, placing her left hand onto his shoulder and pulling him closer.

They started up again, albeit only a little better than they had first begun, swaying back and forth to catch the music's rhythmic beat before continuing with the dance steps. They managed to twirl in unison for only five seconds before they crashed yet again, this time into an expertly dancing couple.

Squall watched, timidly keeping his grip on her hand as the duo exploded into a series of insults, but quickly blanched as Rinoa countered with a few of her own, "Why don't you watch where you're going you wannabe-dancing-queen, and don't get me started on you…you…you no good, left-footed twerp!"

So much for not making a scene.

After effectively finishing the argument, Rinoa turned to Squall, admiring his profile while he stared at the retreating couple. "I might be injured, but let's show them how it's done."

Squall turned his gaze back to her, shocked and once again amazed. Hearing the musical instruments pick up speed with the orchestra's raised crescendo, he skillfully glided her slender figure across the floor; he was undoubtedly talented in his precise movements, guiding her gracefully and fluidly through the crowd while she effortlessly followed his lead. A stain of color flushed her face scarlet as he spun her expertly, ruffling her abyss of skirts into the air as he twirled her a final time.

An intimate silence washed over them as they finished, the room dimming into darkness with only the moonlight to bathe their surroundings in pale opalescence. Their fingers remained linked as her body was pulled to him, pressed firmly against his chest and hips. His intense gaze sent an involuntary shiver down her back. Looking down into her coy expression he swallowed with difficulty, forcing himself to look away.

Breaking the silence, Rinoa pressed her face into his chest as childish chuckles consumed her body. She was trembling from laughter while trying to hide her blushing face from him, "You know, I forgot to ask you your name…"

She never had the chance to finish as abrupt flashes of brightly colored lightning filled the sky. A sequence of explosive fanfare followed shortly, chorusing throughout the building, and effectively shaking its foundation.

Her question was soon forgotten as she her fists tightly gripped the lapels of his outer coat, an involuntary action that would have sent her reeling from embarrassment had they been under less extreme circumstances.

"What's happening?" she managed to screech over the sound of creaking glass that was being bent forcibly under the intense heat and pressure of the explosion

Electrical discharges ignited the atmosphere, sending hundreds of volts throughout the sky, temporarily illuminating it with artificial daylight. Abruptly heated air sent more shockwaves through the Earth, launching the first surge of sonic explosions: windows shattered, falling to the ground as tiny torrential threats, wooden pillars creaked and finally crumbled under the intense pressure exerted, random fires ignited along the exits, and mass panic soon erupted within the cramped ballroom.

A seismic tremor shook the marble flooring, sending a large crack right through the middle of the parquet; most of the horrified dancers had managed to avoid it, but some had tripped, falling to the floor and scraping against the sharpened surface.

Rinoa turned around, finding her dance partner gone. A sudden panic ebbed into her senses, not sure why his disappearance scared her so. Her voice hitched in her throat, unsure if it was panic induced or the mere fact that she couldn't call out his name…didn't even know his name.

"Let's go…"

The voice was all she heard before a firm grip encased her forearm, dragging her over the busted marble. Normally, she would have assumed it was Irvine, but the voice hadn't belonged to him. She twisted her head at the man as she staggered through the debris; one quick glance and she knew it was him—her savior and subsequent dance partner--he hadn't left her after all.

"You need to hurry up!" he grunted, pulling her tiny form behind him. His escape would have been a lot faster had the girl not been slightly injured.

"I'm trying" she winced, her ankle rolling to the side painfully. Her right slipper had fallen off her foot again, and she tried to turn to retrieve it, but he pushed her forward, unrelenting in his grasp.

They were finally nearing the exit as thick swarms of smoke began to fill in. Squall obviously sensed the nearing threat that the smoke signaled, quickening his pace faster than Rinoa could keep up. She slowed her strides, the smoke clouding her vision, burning into her eyes and lungs so that she had to wretch free of his hold. Bending at the waist she breathed with difficulty, wheezing with every smoked filled intake of air.

Squall had only taken a few steps before finding himself alone. Spinning quickly through the haze of black, he found her--only arms length away, her shoulders shaking as she tried to control her breathing.

Rinoa looked up at him when she felt the small pressure of a hand against her back. She felt like she couldn't go any further: her ankle hurt, her eyes burned, and breathing was becoming increasingly difficult with each step towards the exit-- but this was nothing she told herself; nothing compared to the past situations that were definitely more disastrous than her present one.

Looking up, she had to smile at him, enjoying how his eyebrows furrowed at the perplexing nature of the action. The moment was cut short as a stray pillar separated itself from the ceiling to descend upon them. Rinoa was quick to take action, knowing that the man's back was facing the impending column. She pitched herself forward, covering his body as best she could with her small frame.

Arms encircled her waist holding tightly onto her before instant pain shattered her form, sending her into black nothingness.

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"Can you at least tell me why you've been so sidetracked lately?" Seifer yelled from the hall, storming back into her room and letting out his pent-up anger from their prior altercation.

"Can you tell me why it even matters?" As Rinoa replied, her voice seemed to carry itself one octave above Seifer's and brought the argument into a full-blown screaming match, well past the point of their usual fights and into more dangerous territory.

"Of course it matters to me, Rinoa! You haven't been yourself lately!"

Rinoa sighed, lowering her voice, "It shouldn't matter to you Seifer; it never has before."

"It matters to me because you're _my _fiancé!"

"Seifer…" But she couldn't say anything else; there was some truth in what Seifer was saying, and in the end she felt that she couldn't lie to him anymore. He needed to know the truth. "There are some things I need to tell you…" She roughly grabbed his collar, yanking him closer to her, within whispering distance. "I need you to listen to me carefully..."

Rinoa took a deep breath before voicing the dubious words. "I don't work for the bank. I'm an undercover officer for SeeD."

There was a moment of silence after she uttered her secret, ended sharply as Seifer laughed whole-heartily at the pure absurdity of her confession. "You?" he said incredulously. He didn't believe her.

Rinoa tried explaining, to show him that she was not making a pathetic attempt at a joke. "Well, not exactly. It's a covert branch of SeeD, specializing in weapons deals, advanced technology, and government funded black ops." The words, coming out of her mouth sounded so strange. She had never really said them to herself before, let alone another person.

"You're _serious_. You're actually serious." Seifer was stunned. She had just dealt him the hugest blow of a lifetime.

Rinoa made one last feeble attempt for secrecy. "Now that I've told you this, you can't tell anyone!"

"I know."

"I'm serious Seifer. What I'm doing is securing the future and safety of everyone on this planet." She could not meet his gaze; she didn't want to see the look in his eyes anymore…

"You're serious? I can't believe this... I can't believe _you_." He shook his head, reaching up to grab her lithe hand that still held him close to her; it would have been an affectionate gesture had he not instantly torn the hand off of him, and turned on his heel to storm out.

This left Rinoa taken aback; after a few seconds pause, she realized that she needed to chase after him. "Seifer!" After he didn't reply, she yelled again. "Wait! Will you be back so we can talk about this when I get back from my—um, trip?"

"I'll think about it."

The lack of words told her all that he meant to say, and she knew at that moment that hope of reconciliation was slim. The door swung closed behind him, and Rinoa found herself collapsing onto her bed for the second time that day.

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"Watch out!"

She screamed as she jolted awake, twisting the plain, white sheets until they finally fell to the floor below. Above her, the bare ceiling reflected the spring sun into her eyes as she rubbed them, wiping away the foggy covering that signified she had been in the dream world for an extended length of time.

"Ah! The angel finally wakes up."

The voice was recognizable instantly; she pushed herself up to see his amused expression, not noticing that the source of his amusement was currently her and the revealing hospital gown.

Sitting up, Rinoa gasped as she finally registered how little the paper-like gown actually covered, quickly using one of the pillows behind her to cover her legs.

"Why… hello, _Doctor_ Irvine!"

"Good, you do remember!" he replied, deciding to gently tap her exposed thigh like he had the night before, if just to tease her more.

Rinoa half contemplated shoving the pillow down his throat, but as she leaned forward within striking distance, a wave of pain filtered over her face. Hazily lifting her hand to her temple where the pain was centered. She stroked the gauze bandage gently, vaguely remembering the mass explosions that encompassed the room, and her effort to pull the stranger she danced with down to the ground as a broken support beam went flying in their direction.

"Seems you took a nasty hit on the head; I didn't know you made it out until I got a call from Cid saying you were here at your favorite _resort_, Loire Memorial Hospital!"

She rolled her eyes, remembering how many times she'd been taken to this same hospital over the years; they probably had a room already reserved for her. Luckily only a few knew how many times she was sent to the hospital from her maladroit antics. Government funding from Deling had made Loire Memorial Hospital the most secure SeeD infirmary.

"Well that takes care of the 'why' and the 'where' for me, but why are you here?" she questioned, her voice weighed down with that same thorn of anxiety.

"Good deductions, Rinoa." he sighed, switching his speech into a more serious tone. "Cid sent me…"

"Cid sent you…" Her voice trailed off as a second wave of apprehension washed over her. She knew anything attached to Cid's name was never good.

"Rinoa I know this is going to be hard for you but…" Irvine breathed heavily, averting his eyes to the colorless tiles beneath his feet. "This morning…"

"Irvine…" she spoke hesitantly, unconsciously gripping the pillow upon her lap.

"Rinoa, this morning they… they found Seifer dead. I'm so sorry…"

**Authors Note: **OMG, I hope it doesn't suck really bad.

I'm extremely sorry about the antagonizing slow update.

I'd like to thank Devy (Qui-ti), the best beta-wife/click-twin a girl could have! I love you! click

An especially big thank you to Tsukinio Kaze who bares my wrath on a daily basis. Thanks for putting up with my insanity, you're a wonderfully talented write...now get back to work whip-whip By the way, everyone should read her Squinoa masterpiece, Lives In Choosing

Finally another big thank you to everyone who has reviewed my story--I hope you're all still interested: Bakura-star-Ryou-cutie, Ayato, Leonblade, Stardust Ray, 4ngelique, Lady-Rinoa14, it started with a kiss, and Tsukino Kaze.


	4. The Coast Is Never Clear

_**Authors Note: **_I'm so sorry about the delay! I really hope I still have some fans of this piece--if not, I'm screwed!

Because of the long delay, why don't we just get right to the point, eh?...

Enjoy!

_**Truth Be Told**_

**Chapter 3: The Coast Is Never Clear**

Waves rolled across the white sands and sediment of Balamb's famous beachfront real-estate. Years of erosion had chipped away at the middle continent's crust, forming it into the perfect tropical paradise with its curving coastlines and sloping cliffs that sunk deep into the ocean below.

Midday beach dwellers swarmed the soft sands to bathe within the renowned warm waters. Bikini-clad sunbathers lined the long shoreline, their backs soaking up the Sun's intense heat, and male volleyball players paused every so often to admire the row of beach bathing beauties.

Rinoa casually walked along the sandy boardwalk, occasionally adjusting the pure-white sarong that was tied around her waist by a large tropical blossom. She sighed and lowered the binoculars she had been using, letting them hang from the strap around her neck. She had come to Balamb for a purpose, but now it seemed like she was following a _dead_ lead.

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_The tide is high, but I'm holding on!_

"What? I am dealing with this just fine Selphie." Rinoa explained harshly to her friend.

Selphie and Rinoa stood clustered within their kitchen that was currently being destroyed by Rinoa's newly founded baking hobby. Rinoa was trying her best to ignore what Selphie had said as she stirred the homemade brownie mixture.

"Really? I hardly think so. I haven't seen you yet to be in a state of mourning. You barely said anything at the funeral. It's like… It's like you don't even care that Seifer is dead." Selphie knew she had hit a nerve, and although she felt guilty for using such a straightforward approach, there was no mistaking that Rinoa had been acting abnormally secluded, keeping her feelings to herself.

Rinoa could do nothing but stare at the floor and accept her best friend's verbal onslaught. The words had stung, but she tried her best to push away the shameful feelings that were building up. Contrary to what Selphie knew, Rinoa had grieved substantially over Seifer's death, but that wasn't the reason for her recent isolation. An unhealthy combination of self-blame and insecurity was weighing down upon her, and instead of opening up to these emotions she waited patiently for time to heal all her emotional wounds.

"Zone, I know you agree with me here." Selphie exclaimed, placing her hands onto her waist commandingly; she was determined to use Zone's help in getting Rinoa to open up.

Zone, who had been sitting at the kitchen counter throughout the entire exchange, quickly spooned the rest of his morning cereal into his mouth, and motioned innocently with his hands that his mouth was full, silently hoping that his plan worked. He knew Selphie had meant well, but her approaches tended to become overly dramatic.

"Selphie, don't scare the poor boy." Rinoa teased as she peeled off her apron and set the dirty dishes into the sink. "I'm fine you guys, I'm just dealing with a few other things right now. Don't worry about it." She pushed the brownie tray into the oven and grabbed the timer before slipping into the hallway that led to her room.

"I'll be back in thirty to forty-five minutes, or until the brownies are slightly crispy on the outside."

Selphie sighed as she watched her leave before narrowing her eyes dangerously at Zone. "You could have helped, you know."

Fortunately, the doorbell sounded and Selphie pranced off to answer it, effectively saving Zone from her wrath yet again.

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"Okay, you've got to try these!" Rinoa cheerfully sang to her friends, remarkably self-assured with her baking talents as she lifted out the tray of warm, baked goodies from their burning prison.

"Uhh…" A hesitant reply came from Selphie and Zone. They stared blankly at the crusted concoction, their noses assaulted with the unpleasant aroma of burned brownies.

"I followed the directions this time!" She said as she forcefully cut into the rock-hard slab of chocolate with a butcher's knife.

Selphie watched Rinoa chisel into the cemented chocolate, wedging out individual portions for Zone and her to taste test. The entire bottom half of the brownies were rock-hard and scorched like a black briquette. This was the price of friendship, Selphie reassured herself as she took the slice into her 'willing' hands.

"So, how do they taste?" Rinoa smiled triumphantly, her hands locked behind her, as she swayed back and forth onto her tiptoes. The scene was far too innocent for Selphie to criticize her companion, but apparently Zone wasn't as sensitive…

"They taste like--"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Selphie squealed interrupting the nasty comment Zone was sure to have made. She crossed the kitchenette, making sure to silently berate Zone with a kick to his shin before snatching the pile of mail she had left on the dining room table. "Once again our mail was delivered next door; here's your share."

"Bills, bills, bills, refinance my mortgage?..." The list went on as Rinoa shuffled through the miscellaneous pile of junk mail, finding nothing of importance. Amongst the remaining mundane mail, was a peculiar unmarked envelope, her fingers brushed across the cover before hesitantly ripping it open, and sliding out the small note what was placed inside.

"Another sympathy card? Who is it from?" Rinoa vaguely heard Selphie's voice somewhere far off, but the words were muted by the sound of blood drumming against her ears as it eagerly rushed to her brain.

The vein continued to throb against her skull as she read the note carefully; upon reading the last word, her pupils began to fog over with unshed tears. The message was clear to her now, even as the script faded away behind watery eyes.

Rinoa quickly wiped the slight moisture that had gathered at her eyes, hoping that neither of her roommates had noticed the brief escape of her emotions, and wordlessly ran to her bedroom.

"Rinoa, where are you going?" Selphie exclaimed, but her friend tore down the hallway and straight out the door without a single explanation. She agitatedly turned towards Zone, her foot within shin-striking distance. "I told you not to insult her brownies!"

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'You'll find the truth in Balamb.'

Rinoa was sprawled out across her beach chair, watching as tourists played within the ocean's warm waters. Although she watched intently, her mind had wandered elsewhere as she reflected on the mysterious letter she had found nestled within her regular morning mail. It had been two months since Seifer's death, and while she had come to deal with it on her own accord, her roommate, Selphie, still felt she was in denial.

A month of baking was all Rinoa needed, or at least she thought it would, but Seifer's death still plagued her thoughts; not because she thought she had loved him or because she had convinced herself recently that that was definitely not true about her feelings, but because the letter had shed some light on the mysterious nature that was Seifer's death--and the horrifying truth that she was somehow connected to it. That truth is what brought her to Balamb; that truth was supposedly to be found in Balamb.

So much for finding the so-called truth.

Rinoa adjusted the rim on her oversized sunglasses, pushing them back up the bridge of her sweaty nose. Nothing of interest had yet to appease her: there were no leads to go by, no mysterious messages for her to seek out an undisclosed location--only her beach chair and a pair of binoculars assisted her Balamb excursion, and those were proving quite useless as she had no clues to hunt down. She was grasping at straws!

Afternoon humidity began to coat her skin, becoming an unnatural nuisance compared to the temperate climate that was Deling. She fanned herself, letting her hands cool her face with a satisfying breeze, and absentmindedly prayed for the swift conclusion of this now-seemingly meaningless and excruciatingly hot trip.

That's when the next prospect of hope unexpectedly came to her, and quite humorously in the form of a six gil, jumbo-sized peach daiquiri:

"Ma'am, your drink, as requested." The foreign beach attendant announced; his accent was deep, and quixotic like most of the male natives of Balamb.

"But I didn't…"

"It's on the house." The attendant replied, cutting her off as he flipped out a small, business-like card that was previously concealed beneath his tray.

"Oh…" Was all Rinoa could muster. Her eyes nervously darted left and right, searching for the possible source of the unidentified card before taking it into her raised hand. An ironic mixture of satisfaction and discomfort clashed within her stomach as the possibility of a distant watcher both perplexed and unnerved her. She wasn't naïve to the tricks, lies and manipulation that could plague most agents in a time of desperate resolutions. Exhausted of two months and only questions left unsolved, she curiously turned the card over to reveal bold, times new roman script, and a single phrase:

'Find the man at 747'

That phrase could certainly be misleading to anybody, regardless of their ability to solve such ambiguous riddles, but Rinoa had a definite clue brewing within her tactical brain. Sure she was no detective, but glancing out into the ocean's waters only confirmed her suspicions as an expensive yacht floated steadily within the calm waters; the most expensive yacht in all of Balamb--Yacht 747, owned by smut enthusiast, and commercial tycoon, President Shinra. Sometimes known simply as '_The Yacht_,' for it was also home to midnight raves that would occur more than twenty five miles off the coast. Subsequently, it was rumored that because of President Shinra's exploitation of the International Coastal Policy, that many illegal business sessions concluded in the private corroders of the extravagant vessel, including many expensive underground weapon deals.

Tonight, she would infiltrate President Shinra's Yacht, and find the answers burning within her. She clasped her drink, the tension in her fingers so strong that in threatened to crack the thin glass, and took a giant gulp. She eyed the floating ship in the distance through her shades, dark eyebrows furrowing with something a little more complex than determination--_wrath and vengeance_.

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"Selphie, I need a vacation!" Rinoa slurred out as she threw her text book and note cards across the living room floor. Sighing, she lifted her legs and slammed her feet onto the expensive coffee table before her. They were both drooping against the back of their cozy red couch like discarded marionette dolls. Selphie, was next to her, browsing through her professor's footnotes while savagely stabbing at a tub of rocky road ice-cream.

"Agreed. We should both go to Balamb! We totally need the vacation after finals week!" Selphie wiped her mouth clean with the back of her sleeve and continued with her extensive studying.

"No, I mean. I need a vacation for myself. I already have tickets at a day spa in Timber to relax. I leave tomorrow; I just thought you should know."

"What about classes this week? It's not stop day until Friday, and then you have finals the next week. And the bank actually let you off?" Selphie retorted, finally letting go of her halfway-devoured dessert to question her friend. She was slightly disappointed with Rinoa's job, but even more upset that Rinoa hadn't even considered planning their Summer Break together, although she would never let on that she was upset with Rinoa, so instead she decided to focus her verbal onslaught towards Rinoa's tedious job and the constant hours Rinoa had to maintain to work as just a lowly accountant.

"Actually, the bank is sending me there on a trip this weekend; I thought I would go a few days early to catch a little break from everything." Rinoa sat up, retrieving her thick textbook to resume studying.

"Ah, I knew there had to be a catch! You know, you should quit. Let them find somebody else to be their errand dog--boy--girl--you know what I mean! That horrible job of yours has you running off at their leisure. I've even heard them calling you late at night, and even past two in the morning you will run off to fetch whatever it is they need. My point is, quit! The stress from Seifer, your job….and your schooling--" Selphie jabbed at Rinoa's textbook with her dirty spoon for emphasis. "--has got you overly stressed out. I implore you to quit! Immediately! Today! Right now! It's time for you to get a life and move on!"

Rinoa shook her head and laughed slightly, wiping the melted ice-cream that had splattered across the front cover of her book.

"You know I can't quit. I have bills to pay, and once I graduate--_if I graduate_--I'll need the job to pay off my student loans, and of course I won't find a job immediately after Graduate School. So, thank you for your constant and vigilant concern, but my job will have to remain a part of my stressful life for the time being."

Selphie sighed at her stubborn roommate. "Whatever. Don't come crying to me when your face and tits are saggy because you've been stressing yourself into growing older."

"I'll remember that for future reference, but for now I'm a mindless drone to the accounting masses, and you, my dear, are giving me a ride to Deling City International Airport at six o'clock tomorrow morning." Rinoa satisfyingly replied as she bounced off the couch, practically skipping her way to her bedroom. It was time to pack everything that she would need for her awaiting adventure, which included miscellaneous spy gear, and a tiny, baby blue bikini.

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Isolated thunder clouds hung in the night's humid air, the occasional rumble combining with the sound of the joyful revelers that made their way up the steep ramp and into the waiting vessel. The crowd was packed in tightly for the celebration, dressed in the most elaborate of outfits. Most of the bikini-clad females wore tiny pieces of jewelry to match their intricate headdresses which were richly decorated in an infinite rainbow of sequence and pearls to fit President Shinra's theme for the evening--_Carnival de Balamb_!

Zell made his way up the steep incline that led to the ship, bumping into a random partygoer that was wearing so many yellow feathers he thought she looked like a life-size chocobo. His inattentiveness towards the chicken-like-female caused him to knock over one of the male wait-staff, a mix of the most expensive champagne spilling all over his newly bought attire. His version of festival apparel had included a buttoned up shirt that unfortunately had a vivid tropical flora pattern. He finished off the hideous outfit with a plain pair of cargo pants and ratty sandals; it screamed more of beach bum than it did sophisticated syndicate member enjoying a night of carnival!

"Man, I just bought this!" He screamed over the rustling crowd, while trying his best to diminish the stain from his shirt.

"Stop fussing with your shirt, Dincht. You need to keep your eyes open." His companion, Squall, commented, coming up the ramp behind him in a simple pair of black slacks and a shirt. He casually sipped from the bottle of imported beer in his hand, blending well with the rest of the drunken passengers.

"How are we supposed to find the people responsible for the Estherian Ball attack here?" Zell asked, not waiting for an answer before he boarded the ship to start searching the crowd. It was a rhetorical question anyways.

The ship was taking off into the ocean now, the boisterous yell of the crowd signaling their departure. Champagne bottles were immediately uncorked and festive confetti covered the crowd in a blanket of colors. Squall only grimaced, brushing off the offending confetti that had annoyingly fallen onto his shoulder.

"Sake! Sake! Sake! Oi! Oi! Oi!"

Chanting was heard inside the main room of the yacht as passengers urged their drunken comrades into chugging more of the offensive fluids, furthering their intoxication. Rinoa, currently an unfortunate player in a never-ending game of 'sake-bombs,' was stuck between two very drunk, high level syndicate members of President Shinra's. She slammed her empty glass down with the rest of the crowd, wiping away the foam that had drizzled onto her chin.

"You sure are a pretty thing, miss!"

The flabby arm of one of the syndicate members sloppily linked around her tiny midsection and pulled her into his chest. The rancid smell of rice wine and tobacco coated his breath as he whispered drunken mumblings into her ear.

"I always did have a thing for little blonde girls…"

Rinoa squirmed against his relaxed hold, her face tinting faintly with a growing hue of crimson; most likely a result from the mix of alcohol in her system. With little difficulty, she finally broke free of his hold, stumbling away from him on her high stiletto heels before adjusting the baby blue bikini, and platinum shoulder length wig that concealed her natural color.

A few quick, awkward steps sent her out of the main cabin and into the damp night air where she bent face first over the metal railing that protected her from the churning waters below. She was never that coordinated in heels to begin with, she reasoned. Her mind wavered, focusing all her attention on maintaining a constant center point in the jagged ocean waves, but the restless rolling motion of the ship only agitated her insides.

"What am I doing?"

Rinoa groaned audibly, leaning more heavily over the railing. She felt defeated and useless; all the running around Balamb was for nothing, but a few 'kicks' at a lavish social gathering. What was she even thinking when she decided to participate in a few drinking games? Did she really believe that becoming chummy with a few rotten criminals would reveal the next clue into her investigation? Whatever she had been thinking then didn't matter now; her mind was only focusing on two things: keeping balance and preparing a strategy that would take her away from this event, and possibly unravel a little more of the mystery--if that was even possible at this point.

A sharp dance of lightning in the clouds flashed over her, the darkened sky opening up to a sudden rainstorm; Mother Nature was, in essence, completing her misery.

"Great. Just great!"

Squall roamed the outdoor hallway where it was safely secluded from the main crowd. His partner, Zell, had run off to investigate on his own, and he was happy for the distraction, it meant that Zell would not be bugging him incessantly for the entire evening. After all, Squall had already grown quite nauseous from the social event. The intenseness of the noise level had driven him away; the noise, almost completely muffled by the sturdy white walls of the vessel, was being replaced by a strong headache, annoyingly placed in the small space between his eyes. Looking out into the sea, Squall surveyed the increasing volume of the storm as it approached; the wind had picked up speed while dropping the temperature a foreign few degrees. The heat that was so native of Balamb was retreating to make way for the _coming storm_. As if on cue, lightning split the sky open, and small droplets of water began falling, pelting against the ship's smooth surface.

With the threat of the storm turning in the distance, the mob of party-goers had abandoned the outer decks leaving Rinoa drenched and alone. She blinked, trying to wipe away the drops of rain that had fallen between her ashen eye lashes. Chilled and wet fingertips grasped the slick railing until her knees finally gave way, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. She rested there for a few moments, soaked completely, her body weight pressing down on her sore knees, and one fist still clenched firmly to the railing like it was her last prospect of hope; Rinoa was crushed completely. She dared not move, enduring the freezing rain as it coated her skin, and only tilted her head sideways when she heard light footsteps breaking through the soundless barrier that had engulfed her.

Squall kept his head low, his gaze remaining on his feet which sloshed through the gathering puddles. The rain was finally becoming an unnecessary nuisance. He unknowingly approached the kneeling figure, his gaze finally lifting to stare at the strange passenger.

With the lack of any visible light, Rinoa could scarcely make out the man's features as he drew nearer to her position. The man looked up sharply, as if finally sensing her presence, the force of his dark stare was almost tangible. Her eyes moved over him to take in what she saw; this man, he was something eerily familiar.

Lightning stroked the sky, bathing them in a streak of faint luminosity, just a bright enough flash to bring their features into focus for the briefest of moments. Rinoa caught sight of his face, her breath catching deep within her throat as she identified the scarred man instantaneously. A burning sensation enveloped her senses as memory seeped back into her mind:

_Sounds and sensations._

_An explosion, impossibly loud to be mistaken as lightning._

_And finally, a ripping pain in the back of her head._

Quickly she jumped to her feet, and reached for his arm, her fingernails digging into the man's flesh like daggers into a spleen. He reacted to her swiftly, his short steps throwing her backwards from him; though her nails still managed to firmly grasp the limb. Her minor victory, however, was soon shattered as the man's hand, unyielding as steel, grasped her wrist, twisting it painfully to the side.

She had no time to struggle or even be concerned over her injured wrist, as the man grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around, and pinned her against the wall. Rinoa didn't flinch beyond the initial surprise of his counter-attack, her anger quickly turning into anxiety when she realized that he held her silently in his hold, unyielding and unmoving.

"Did you kill him?" Rinoa turned her head as she spoke awfully low, her voice lethal as her chocolate colored eyes bored into his, but the man gave no indication he would respond, only twisting her arms tighter behind her back to restrain her further.

"You must be the man, and--"

She ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek, her hot steely eyes refusing to leave his. "You killed him." She said again, her voice harder.

It almost made her laugh, the pain from his hold becoming increasingly stronger. Rinoa noticed how he had finally managed to make her wince, but she wouldn't show just how badly his hold hurt, it wasn't something she could let herself do at the moment. She was in too deep, as they say; too deep in some sort of twisted conspiracy where she believed this man was responsible for all the death around her: Seifer, Esther, and probably even more numerous accounts of murder were attached to this man's record. Her profiling skills as an agent were vastly mediocre compared to Irvine's, but at the present moment she believed in her misguided judgment. After all, he was currently her only link, and if she ended up being correct and he was responsible for Seifer's death than he would have to be held accountable.

Squall scowled at his present predicament; for once wishing that Zell was pestering him like usual and not doing exactly what he was being told. He tightened his grip, constraining the young woman against the wall using his obvious physical advantage.

He was certain this woman was crazy, suffering from drunken hallucinations, but he had no time to fuss around with the nonsensical girl, he was only concerned with apprehending his own criminal, who he had yet to discover. Squall sighed in frustration, his headache becoming more painful with every moment that he held the girl captive. For once in his life, Squall was at a loss for his next move.

Two can play that game, Rinoa thought. She suddenly catapulted from his hold, a muffled scream hissing between her teeth as the back of her head collided with his nose.

"Damn it!" Pain resonated throughout his entire skull; his headache, now an unbearable throbbing.

Rinoa's heart jack-hammered in her breast as she grappled with panic, the man was bent forward, cupping his sore nose. She chose that moment to turn towards him; her hands gripped his shoulders while her knee shot out to strike him where everyman was vulnerable.

Squall recovered quickly from her assault and parried with his right arm, blocking what was sure to have been an excruciating blow to his manhood. He grabbed her roughly by her ankle and swung her across the hallway where she landed in a perfected crouching position, her legs aching with the unaccustomed strain. She was so weak compared to him, her once powerful body refusing to recover from his depredated defense. She felt frail and dried out, like an old autumn oak tree left to wither in the chill of winter. She wanted to be strong again--strong as her convictions.

Rage pushed through Squall with surprising force, like an electrical surge. His arm shot out to grab for the girl again, but she slipped past him easily, her sharp stilettos puncturing the toe of his shoe with such force that the entire heel broke off. Without glancing back once, Rinoa hurriedly hobbled away across the slick floor, balancing unsteadily on the tip of her toes.

'Bravo Rinoa, you really thought that one through.' She chided herself silently, slipping back inside to blend with the drunken crowd, which wasn't an easy feat considering that she was soaked to the bone, her thick mascara running like sinister veins across her face. The platinum wig atop her head had been forgotten as it was a mess of tangles like an old discarded rag.

Maybe the drunken crowd wouldn't notice?

Rinoa still dared not to look behind her for fear that the man was there, waiting for her to turn around and resume what she had thoughtlessly started. She would have to figure out a way to end this predicament. Her goal was to seek retribution for the people responsible for Seifer's untimely death, but the alcohol had dulled her senses, making her act on pure irrationality. Well thought out plans were instantly discarded in place of cold, hard revenge and stupidity.

She rounded the corner, cowering behind the built-in bar where a few syndicate members were gaily downing their shots of top-shelf tequila, too drunk to take notice of her presence, or so she thought. A familiar flabby arm shot down to yank her up from her hiding spot behind the bar, twirling her into the sloppy embrace.

"My little blonde vixen is all wet!" He murmured into her soaking flaxen wig as he held her petite body against his comparably chubby one. His thick thumb was stroking her bare shoulders, and his head tilted forward causing his calloused lips to move dangerously close to her own.

Rinoa's blood suddenly froze in her veins; a disgusted murmur sounded deep inside the back of her throat. Her heart felt like it was freefalling towards a bottomless sea, unable to escape and drowning from its own blood supply.

With out warning her tiny frame was suddenly pulled apart from the plump man by a strength that was not her own. She staggered backwards, faintly catching a glimpse of the strong arm that connected with the drunk's repulsive face.

In that instant, the music and noise within the main room instantly halted, the crowd's focal point centering on Rinoa, and the current ironic circumstance that unfolded before her; a situation that she also found to be helplessly trapped in.

"Squall!" It was the first thing anybody in the room dared to say. It was as if the whole assembly was waiting anxiously for the outcome of the drama, their eyes fixated as if it would motivate the mystery to unravel.

"Squall!"

Again the voice was heard, this time coming from the blonde man who eagerly pushed through the packed crowd.

"Whoa! Squall! What did you do?"

Rinoa finally looked up, breaking her concentration on the collapsed hefty man, to the newest member of the twisted scenario. She catalogued his features, awareness starting to settle in as she noted the blonde's slightly taller stature, and how the wide and brawny build of his torso gave him an aggressive edge. The dark tattoo decorating the side of his face was what finally triggered her memory. It was the same man from the Esthar Ball, his identifiable tattoo unmistakable; he was definitely the comrade of the scarred man.

"And what happened to your nose? Did this guy punch you first?"

Squall looked up as well, his fist still clenched and stinging from the impact it had made on the man's sturdy jaw. He was utterly confused by his actions, if anybody had known Squall well enough they would have called him distraught; he had reacted without even thinking about the larger implications of his actions.

A few of the more sober syndicate members moved to the front of the crowd towards Squall and Rinoa. Their eyes were narrowed like savage beasts that swarmed in to protect what was rightfully their prey. Both Squall and Rinoa noticed the considerable change in their surroundings, the atmosphere of the party had suddenly turned hostile. It was like an annoyingly persistent warning sign that spelled out a single word: Trouble.

Rinoa's eyes skimmed over the crowd, a calculated escape plan running in the back of her mind. It wasn't the most effective of plans; she wasn't exactly acquainted with her present surroundings, and there were far too many unknown variables, including the many civilians that were lingering around the boat, but any plan was better than nothing, she reasoned.

Frowning at what seemed to be a trap of men, Rinoa quietly sought out a decoy, something simple, yet productive!--Her defective stiletto slipped then, misplacing her footing upon the granite flooring, but her mind was as quick as her inventive (and quite deliberate) actions. As soon as she fell, Rinoa was swiftly picking herself up off the ground, the fat syndicate member's pistol now clutched within her shaking hands and pointed at the scarred man.

None of the men moved to disarm her, their hands only resting casually, yet firmly on their holsters ready to make a move, but none dared to argue or entice the ill tempered female. She threw a look over at the bewildered Zell, the expression of panic on his face verifying that he would not become an immediate threat.

Silent prayers swept off her lips that her aim was well, and that the syndicate members would have forgiveness for her murdering one of their own in the middle of their party. Subduing, her nervousness with the final ounce of inner strength she possessed, she cocked the pistol, her index finger hesitating before pulling tight against the trigger.

Once again, had she been sober enough, she would have reflected on how she rarely thinks situations through.

The pain that resonated through the core of Squall's body and the force of the bullet that tore into his shoulder caused him to grunt softly, eyes closing for the briefest of moments before opening to stare icily at Rinoa's shaken figure.

Rinoa found she was unable to tear away from his piercing stare of solid, azure eyes. A passing afterthought stirred within the recesses of her mind--something along the lines of disappointment or possibly regret--but the crowd's panic stirred her out of her daze, and Rinoa reluctantly turned away, letting the hysteria paint her escape to flee outside to the stormy night.

Armed syndicate members instantly swarmed the injured man, Squall. One hand fell upon each of his arms, but before they could get a hold of him to drag him away the shrill sound of electrical fuses misfiring engulfed the room causing the lights to slowly flicker before burning out into complete darkness.

Shrill screams of terror were followed by the penetrating sound of the alarm system activating; the red emergency lights blinked rapidly, giving the entire vessel it's only source of light. Looking down at their intended victim, they found only an innocent, panic-stricken passenger in place of the injured man--Squall had disappeared on the heels of his shooter.

Outside Rinoa pushed herself onward in no particular direction. Turning the corner, she spotted the remaining life boats being filled with civilian passengers. She would have hopped on the first one available had they not been heavily guarded, but the mechanical drive towards freedom overpowered her anxiety. Willing her feet to move forward through the next hallway, she searched for an easy outlet, hoping to escape the troubled vessel, and at the same time, making due to somehow avoid the nagging fear tugging at her chest.

She was just about to round the corner into the next passageway when the wooden panel just above her right ear splintered into tiny pieces. Her heart leapt forward as she turned around just in time to hear the assailants second bullet shatter another hole into the hallow sheet-rock of the wall beside her.

Squall cursed to himself as he missed his target for a second time. He assumed the injury to his shoulder was the cause of his faltering marksmanship. The proficiency of his aim, combined with years of exceptional combat expertise, made him the most instinctual of soldiers; one with a celebrated success rate that would drive any aggressor to flee in fear.

Rinoa spun around the corner, her heart still floundering somewhere within her chest cavity; close calls, much like this one, always sent her entire body into panic mode. She sought to seize an ounce of self-control from her trembling body as she angled her head to peak back at her shooter. The immediate shatter of more wooden specks hurling into the air resulted in the instant she glimpsed the gun-wielding form of her opponent. Not keen on being the target of a fourth shot, she heaved herself safely against the wall, and began to fight back the tears tempting to descend from her eyes.

Leaning her head to the right, Rinoa looked out through the space between her and the hallway's next intersection. Running right would leave her assailant a large clearing to fire off his fourth bullet, a shot Rinoa was sure would hit its mark. However, the area to her left had infinitely more drawbacks; the hallway turned into stairs that descended down into the lower decks of the vessel, an area where she was more likely to get caught up in a _dead_ end, but the first, and foremost, hazard of retreating to the left would be the obstacle of running past the hallway's opening, and becoming a clear, defenseless target.

Perhaps sobriety was overrated at this point.

_**Authors Note: **_Okay, here is where I will try to say whatever it is I need to say…

I would like to give a huge thanks to both Tsukino Kaze and my beta-wife Devy Qui-ti, without them I would probably end up picking my nose in front of the computer. Or perhaps just have really bad gas--those girls are like a cure for all my nasty bodily functions. Let me tell you! Ahem…

And now to finally do what I have yet to do--thank the reviewers! Stardust Ray, Luissquall, Ashbear, higher than sky high, Cerulean Crystal, Babigirl2246, Lady-Rinoa14, 4ngelique, Leonblade, Ayato, and Elle the Brat.

Thanks for reviewing guys!

Finally, I won't ever abandon this story. In fact, I had most of this chapter written right after posting the previous one. Fall Break is next week, and I intend to write another chapter by the end of it! So, wish me luck!


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